The bloom and freshness of the river was gone as sont as the pickerel-weed began to be imbrowned, in the latter part of August. It is fall and harvest there now.

  I remember my earliest going a-graping. (It was a wonder that we ever hit upon the ripe season.) There was more fun in finding, and eying the big purple clusters high on the trees tend climbing to them than in eating them. We used to take care not to chew the skins long lest they should make our mouths sore . . .